Our Sunday Visitor Catholic Publishing Company http://www.osv.comRSS document/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/23808/Opinion-Three-reasons-it%e2%80%99s-time-for-Christians-to-bag-Santa.aspx If a young child figures out the truth about Santa Claus, he typically is instructed not to tell other children for fear of spoiling the story for them. But if a child believes in Santa, she is never instructed to keep the story to herself. This does not appear odd, until you consider the children of parents who intentionally choose not to introduce the Santa story in the first place. Among these children are those whose parents may have figured that it already is so difficult to form children’s imaginations according to the mysteries of the Christian faith that spending a half-dozen years or so perpetuating a story that the kids would eventually discover to be untrue (and then having to reshape the Christmas narrative for the purposes of their religious education) ... well, maybe that is all just more trouble than it is worth. Christmas is one of the prime times for sparking the imaginations of children, and the ubiquity of Santa Claus makes it far more likely than not that his figure and myth will play a leading role how Christian children’s imaginations are formed year after year. Santa Claus is not evil, but the dominance of his image is unhealthy for the Christian imagination. This isn’t a “Christians against the secular world” sort of thing. Instead it is a recognition of the fact that the enthusiasm and affections of children shape not only what they think about and wish for, but also what they want and believe to be true. Though more could be said, I would like to offer three observations as to how the figure of Santa Claus inverts traditional Christian belief and thereby slowly, subtly and simply by default teaches our children a set of counter-assumptions that, in the end, actually make the Christian faith more difficult to receive. Santa Claus and the image of God We sing a lot of songs this time of year, and we teach our children to sing them. Among these cherished songs, “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” is the one that captures the essential image of Santa Claus in just a few short verses: “You better watch out / You better not cry / Better not pout / I’m telling you why / Santa Claus is coming to town. / He’s making a list / He’s checking it twice / He’s gonna find out who’s naughty or nice; / Santa Claus is coming to town. / He sees you when you’re sleeping / He knows when you’re awake / He knows when you’ve been bad or good / So be good for goodness sake!” Let’s state the obvious: The idea of someone — anyone — watching you all the time is alternately creepy and deeply unsettling. And yet, this is precisely what the psalmist confesses about the God he praises: “Lord, you have probed me, you know me: you know when I sit and stand; you understand my thoughts from afar. You sift through my travels and my rest; with all my ways you are familiar. Even before a word is on my tongue, Lord, you know it all” (Psalm 139:1-4). If there is someone who sees all and knows all — seeing you and watching you all the time — the really important question is: Who is this? In the Christian imagination — flowing in continuity with the Jewish imagination — the God who sees all and knows all is the one whose seeing is always mercy, and whose mercy always works. In the Book of Exodus, beginning in the second chapter, God is the one who sees suffering and moves to respond, in person. With Santa Claus, the one who sees all and knows all is a moral arbiter who rewards vaguely conceived right conduct and punishes vaguely conceived wrong conduct. We must therefore ask ourselves: Whom do our children imagine is watching them and knowing them, fully and completely? This is not an either-or matter, as in “Santa Claus or God.” It is much more a matter of Santa Claus shaping and reinforcing a predominant image of God, and this image bears a weak resemblance to the God whom Jesus teaches us to call Father. In fact, the image of Santa Claus nicely lines up with the image of God that the sociologist of religion Christian Smith has described as ...]]>Tue, 12 Dec 2017 00:00:00 -0500/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/23808/Opinion-Three-reasons-it%e2%80%99s-time-for-Christians-to-bag-Santa.aspx/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22975/Editorial-A-revolution-of-love.aspx Two days after counterprotestors clashed with white nationalists at an “alt-right” rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, the Washington Post ran an article about the science behind racism. “Why are people still racist?” the headline asked. Two scientists, one a social psychologist and the other a psychology professor at New York University, hypothesized that the answer can be found in one’s environment. “People learn to be whatever their society and culture teaches them,” one said, adding later: “The only way to change bias is to change culture. You have to change what is acceptable in society.” The reasoning in itself is not unsound, but as people of faith, the culture change we seek is different from the one the two scientists envision. Our change is more revolutionary, going much deeper than the secularist goal of fostering a culture of inclusivity. Instead, our challenge is to foster a culture in which every person is able to flourish in accordance with his or her inherent dignity as one loved by God and created in his image — one in which individuals submit with joy to the will of God and love neighbors as themselves. This, we know, is easier said than done. But the forces catapulting us toward the crossroads of healing or death are real, and they’re not going away. Charlottesville is only the latest manifestation of that reality, one that carries within its folds the heavy weights of Paris, Brussels, Orlando, San Bernardino, Newtown, Charleston, Berlin, Nice, Boston, 9/11 and so many more sites of violence and unrest. Action is imperative, and as Christians, we must be the ones to offer the world the healing that is found in Jesus Christ. This healing begins with individuals. Take James Alex Fields Jr., the 20-year-old infatuated with Nazis and “alt-right” symbolism who drove a car into a crowd of people, killing one woman, on a day Charlottesville will never forget. He was seduced by the “answers” of a twisted ideology: power, supremacy, the worshipping of one’s race and self. But these are false idols. Would history have been changed were he to have worshipped Jesus Christ instead? Charlottesville is a reminder that each of us is called to spread the Gospel person by person. Ours is a message of hope for all, and sharing it can’t just come from the top down. It has to begin with us. This healing begins with our words. It’s may be a cliché, but it’s true: What we say matters. How we speak to and interact with others shapes who we are and influences those around us. This especially includes children, who pay attention to our every word and deed, and co-workers who know we are Christian and who are watching us to see just what that really means. Charlottesville reminds us that we must represent our faith well, and, as such, our words should lift up and never demean. Like what you’re reading? Subscribe now in print or digital . This healing begins with looking at our neighbor and seeing not a color, hearing not an accent or knowing not a political viewpoint, but instead recognizing the individual’s humanity and God-given dignity. As the late Cardinal Francis E. George of Chicago said in a 2001 pastoral letter on racism, “Loving only people who are just like ourselves, loving only those who are members of our biological family or who share our own ethnic or cultural background, our own political views or our own class assumptions, does not fulfill the challenge of the Gospel.” Our duty as Christians is to create a new beginning. To shun anger, fear, hatred, demeaning words, racism, terrorism, bigotry, death and instead to embrace the hope of the Gospel that is Jesus Christ. This is the challenge of our time, and each of us is called to respond. Editorial Board: Greg Willits, editorial director; Gretchen R. Crowe, editor-in-chief; Don Clemmer, managing editor ]]>Wed, 16 Aug 2017 00:00:00 -0500/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22975/Editorial-A-revolution-of-love.aspx/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22240/A-real-ratings-killer.aspx The Lifetime cable channel is one of the many bottom feeders hanging around the current television industry. Not a premium channel, it is a toss-in for cable subscribers, one of those myriad stations a couch potato usually surfs past between looking for the game and the news. The last Sunday of April, however, Lifetime launched a six-episode “dramedy” series, “Mary Kills People.” It’s hoping for attention. The show gives us one Mary Harris as a sharp-talking emergency room physician who, for a second job, kills the terminally ill for money. The going rate seems to be $10,000, which she splits with her wisecracking assistant, a cosmetic surgeon. The show tries to mix in with the drama what it perceives as a few ironic laughs, especially at the expense of the dying. In the premier, Mary shoots up a half-filled champagne flute with poison, then hands it over to the victim. He seems to be having second thoughts, but she reassures him, and he drinks it down. Then the fun begins. The victim’s wife comes home unexpectedly and begins calling for him. Mary and her partner make a dash for a quick balcony escape, then she rushes back in because she forgot the money. To her horror, she finds that her victim is still alive. She suffocates him with a pillow though he tries to protest that he has changed his mind. Our heroes leap from the balcony, crash-land and escape with the money. I fully expected the Roadrunner to then show up with a “beep-beep.” “Mary Kills People” is a horror on all levels, the only unifying theme being the blanket advocacy of what the show presents as the unquestionable good in helping the terminally ill kill themselves. “Doctors feel it is important for patients to choose their death,” Mary explains in one of her trite apologias, though she does wonder to her joke-cracking partner if he is “a compassionate doctor or a serial killer.” In a case of life imitating art, only weeks before “Mary Kills People” premiered, Donald Harvey was killed by a fellow inmate in the Toledo Correctional Institution in Ohio. Harvey was one of the most prolific murderers in U.S. history, killing at least 37 people, but likely many more as he thought the number was closer to 70. Most of his victims were hospital patients in Ohio and Kentucky where he worked over two decades. He killed those terminally ill or aged patients because he could and because he liked to kill them — it gave him a sense of power over life and death. Like Mary’s explanation for her work. Additionally, like those involved with “Mary Kills People,” he thought it was kind of funny. According to The New York Times story after his death, his co-workers gave him “nicknames like the Kiss of Death” and “joked about the number of patients who died while he was on duty. Mr. Harvey joined in the joking, and because his victims were old or in poor health, their deaths did not arouse much suspicion.” “Mary Kills People” is television gone evil. And, as evil so often does, it spreads its tentacles. Like what you’re reading? Subscribe now in print or digital . One of the lead advertisers on that first show was Domino’s Pizza. Founded by the devout and dynamic lay Catholic leader Tom Monaghan (he sold it in 1998), Domino’s was once boycotted by pro-abortion zealots because of Monaghan’s staunch support of pro-life causes. Now it’s shilling pies on a show killing the terminally ill for laughs and ratings. Lifetime itself is a subsidiary of A+E Networks, owned by the Hearst Corporation. And The Walt Disney Company. “When you wish upon a star ….” That’s entertainment. Robert P. Lockwood writes from Indiana. Follow him on Twitter @BobPLockwood . ]]>Wed, 03 May 2017 00:00:00 -0500/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22240/A-real-ratings-killer.aspx/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22241/Stemming-the-tide.aspx It is a new day, and it dramatically is affecting the Catholic Church, along with other religious denominations. No end is in sight. Until now, a strong factor in very many Catholics’ religious lives was their attachment to a Catholic “culture.” Often, it involved family ties and heritage. Catholics tended to hold on to the Church because they were reared as Catholics by Catholic parents, likely attended Catholic schools and quite often viewed life from a Catholic perspective. Catholicism was part of their DNA. This is changing altogether, and the change is picking up speed. For example, look at two public figures recently in the news. Vice President Mike Pence is from a staunchly Catholic Irish-American family in Indiana, “Irish as Paddy’s pig.” He was an altar boy. He went to Catholic schools. Then, as a young man, he left the Catholic Church and became an evangelical Protestant. He has reared his children as Protestants. The new Supreme Court associate justice, Neal Gorsuch, comes from a Catholic background. He attended Catholic schools. Then, also in early adulthood, he left the Catholic Church. Until moving to Washington to serve on the Supreme Court, he was a member of an Episcopal congregation in Colorado. Without guessing about what is in these men’s hearts, it is a fact that they are two of very, very many people with similar experiences. Throughout the United States, men and women by the thousands, regardless of their Irish, or Italian, or Polish, or Spanish heritages, are leaving the Church. “Former Catholics” compose the second largest religious group in this country. Many other Americans still express association with the Catholic Church but irregularly if ever attend Mass and have views inconsistent with Church teaching. Almost always these are signs of the first steps out the door. The same thing occurred in the past when Catholic immigrants flooded into this country. Many fell away from the Church. (Our histories rarely tell this story.) What does it mean? American Catholicism in 50 years will be different. Catholics simply will not be as many as today. Catholicism will less visible. Catholic institutions will be fewer. Why? The children of today’s less than fervent Catholics, or of former Catholics, will not identify with the Church of their parents and grandparents. Look at other denominations. Most are losing ground precariously. In my home diocese of Nashville, Tennessee, two new Catholic parishes recently formed. Once, new Catholic parishes had to build facilities for their use, but these two new parishes in Nashville simply bought, and moved into, buildings sold by Protestant denominations with severely dwindling congregations. All this summons older American Catholics to awaken. Youth will no longer be satisfied with family tradition, or childhood attachments, or even with intellectual points, when it comes to religion. They will make their own decisions, very much moved by what they see as working. Like what you’re reading? Subscribe now in print or digital . Mature Catholics can have an influence, not always by theological argument, although Catholics must be able to explain our Church’s teaching, but if they display that being a faithful Catholic brings great rewards to lives and uplifts and beautifies human experience. Love and live the Faith. Love the Church. Pray that all humbly will hear God’s Holy Spirit. Five hundred years ago, St. Francis de Sales, a brilliant French bishop, said that Catholics could draw others to the Church, not by bitterness and demand, but by proving by their lives that Catholicism works. Msgr. Owen F. Campion is OSV’s chaplain. ]]>Wed, 03 May 2017 00:00:00 -0500/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22241/Stemming-the-tide.aspx/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22242/Letters-to-the-Editor-for-May-14-20-2017.aspxWed, 03 May 2017 00:00:00 -0500/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22242/Letters-to-the-Editor-for-May-14-20-2017.aspx/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22243/Editorial-Cycle-of-nonviolence.aspx Pope Francis’ trip to Egypt at the end of April, the 18th overseas trip of his pontificate, began under a cloud of violence and fear due to the Palm Sunday bombings of two Coptic Orthodox churches in the country three weeks earlier. The bombings naturally raised questions about the pope’s safety, and Vatican spokesman Greg Burke acknowledged these concerns. Tight security, he added, is a “new normal.” And so the pope characteristically pressed on with his visit, and in doing so, his trip to Egypt spoke volumes about how followers of Christ are called to respond to violence. In visiting with Coptic Christians and Coptic Orthodox Pope Tawadros II just three weeks following the bombings that killed nearly 50 faithful and injured more than 100 others, Pope Francis was present with people in their mourning and suffering, but he also took the opportunity to build bridges of unity through the encounter. He signed a joint agreement with Pope Tawadros that each Church would recognize the other’s baptism, a significant move as the Coptic Orthodox had previously required new members, including baptized Catholics, to be baptized again. Related Reading Pope Francis preaches peace, unity in Egypt Pope Francis didn’t limit his bridge-building to other Christians. In his visit to al-Azhar University in Cairo, he dialogued with the country’s Sunni Muslim religious leaders, addressing root causes of the societal ills that led to the Palm Sunday attacks. In particular, he addressed the responsibility of all religious leaders to take the lead in stopping people from engaging in violence in the name of religion. “As religious leaders, we are called, therefore, to unmask the violence that masquerades as purported sanctity and is based more on the ‘absolutizing’ of selfishness than on authentic openness to the Absolute,” he said. “We have an obligation to denounce violations of human dignity and human rights, to expose attempts to justify every form of hatred in the name of religion and to condemn these attempts as idolatrous caricatures of God.” He noted that “it is of little or no use to raise our voices and run about to find weapons for our protection: What is needed today are peacemakers, not makers of arms; what is needed are peacemakers and not fomenters of conflict; firefighters and not arsonists; preachers of reconciliation and not instigators of destruction.” On the return flight to Rome, Pope Francis looked beyond violence in Egypt to the growing signs of conflict between the United States and North Korea. “I always call (for) resolving problems through the diplomatic path, negotiations,” because the future of humanity depends on it, the pope said. Like what you’re reading? Subscribe now in print or digital . In Pope Francis’ brief visit to Egypt, we saw him once again model with his actions what he so often tries to teach with his words. His response to violence is not to flee, or even stay away, but to draw nearer to those affected, engage them lovingly and invite all people, especially those from different backgrounds, into respectful dialogue and encounter with one another — all with an intentional focus toward preventing future violence. Francis knows this is the path to lasting peace — a path that would engender great potential if more Christians, as well as believers of other religious traditions, joined him. As the pope noted in his recent TED Talk, “Hope began with one ‘you.’ When there is an ‘us,’ there begins a revolution.” We can all pray and model with our hearts and actions the hope that this becomes another “new normal.” Editorial Board: Greg Willits, editorial director; Gretchen R. Crowe, editor-in-chief; Don Clemmer, managing editor ]]>Wed, 03 May 2017 00:00:00 -0500/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22243/Editorial-Cycle-of-nonviolence.aspx/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22139/Coptic-Christians.aspx Coptic Christianity suddenly was in the headlines. It was good news at first. Pope Francis was planning to visit Egypt. He would meet Coptic Christians while there. Then, the news was bad. Terrorists bombed Coptic Christian churches on Palm Sunday, slaughtering many innocent people. These attacks on Coptic Orthodox churches in Egypt were horrendous in themselves, but they were only the most recent of many outrages that Coptic Christians have endured over the years. Who are the Coptic Christians? Christianity has been in Egypt since the days of the apostles. It is said that St. Mark the Evangelist, considered by some to have been an early disciple of Jesus who later was associated with St. Peter, went to Alexandria, still today a great city in Egypt, a Mediterranean seaport. Two millennia ago, it was the second most important city of the Roman Empire. Alexandria came to be, and is today, the center of Coptic Christianity. It is hard to believe, but within a few centuries after Christ, Coptic Christianity was the major religion in Egypt. It also had been taken to Ethiopia, where incidentally it still is the dominant religion. Then came the Arab Muslim sweep across North Africa. Many Christians converted, or were forced to convert, to Islam, but Coptic Christianity never died altogether. In the fifth century, the Coptic Christians severed their union with the papacy. About 300 years ago, a segment within Coptic Christianity restored this union, but the majority of Copts remained Orthodox, separated from Rome. The Coptic Orthodox title the head of their church the “pope.” Presently Pope Tawadros II is head of the Coptic Orthodox communion. Heading the Coptic Catholics is the patriarch of Alexandria, the diocese believed to have been founded by St. Mark, Patriarch Ibrahim Isaac Sidrak. Aside from Alexandria, six other Coptic Catholic dioceses, or eparchies, are in Egypt. Obviously, Coptic Catholics believe all that other Catholics believe. Coptic Orthodox do not accept the authority of the bishop of Rome, but they celebrate seven sacraments. They believe that deacons, priests and bishops are ordained and are in a line that began with the apostles. They believe that the Lord is present, body, blood, soul and divinity, in the Eucharist. In several other matters, however, they differ from Roman Catholic teaching. For both Coptic Catholics and Catholic Orthodox, the liturgy is in Coptic, the ancient language of Egypt, and from the language, their religious tradition draws its name. Like what you’re reading? Subscribe now in print or digital . For almost a millennium and a half, Coptic Christians, Coptic Catholics and Coptic Orthodox, have had a hard way to go. For a while, Britain dominated Egypt, and Christians were in a more protected situation. Since Egypt attained full independence, in living memory, Christians have lived through days of peace but also through many days of persecution or at least harassment. The turmoil that has existed in Egypt for the past several years hardly has helped the situation. Coptic Catholic parishes exist in the United States in Boston, Brooklyn, Los Angeles and Nashville. They are responsible to Patriarch Sidrak, not to the local bishop of the Latin rite. Recently, as unrest has intensified in the Middle East, and especially in Egypt, more Coptic Christians, both Catholic and Orthodox, have come to the United States. Not surprisingly, many Egyptian Christians worry about the future. The future of this pattern is unclear, as it is not known how, or if, the Trump Administration will handle such immigration. Msgr. Owen F. Campion is OSV’s chaplain. ]]>Wed, 19 Apr 2017 00:00:00 -0500/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22139/Coptic-Christians.aspx/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/21999/The-gift-of-aligning-one%e2%80%99s-self-with-Christ%e2%80%99s-suffering.aspx A little less than halfway through my pregnancy, a reader wrote me a delightful note saying something to the effect of, “Oh, the joys of being pregnant during Advent!” And she was right. When I was 20 weeks along, with my baby just starting to show and the flutterings of new life just beginning to be made known inside me, I found myself thinking often of the Blessed Mother, trying to align my wonderings with hers and to conform my appreciation of the miracle of life with her. It was a beautiful time and, the reader was absolutely correct, a complete joy. Since then, however, four months have passed, and I am beginning to be able to relate pregnancy with our current liturgical season of Lent. This isn’t to say that the wonderings and the appreciation are gone. Far from it. Every day I am awed by the growing miracle of life that is happening inside my body. It is a blessing and a gift, beyond any I could have ever imagined — even already. But I’m finding that the journey, now so close to being over, is less represented by gentle Advent wonderings and instead is more in tune with the Way of the Cross. I’m breathing a little heavier these days, unable to sing as loudly or as much as I usually like. Walking down the halls at work, sometimes I wish I had a scooter. Everything hurts a little more. Everything is a little harder to accomplish. Everything makes me that much more inclined to take a mid-afternoon nap. Even in trying not to grumble, I find myself doing a little extra whining these days. I feel especially bad about this given the fact that I am, in essence, a Lenten failure this year. My commitment to daily Mass has floundered, with my attendance at less than 50 percent. Since eating is my second job these days, I opted out of sacrificing any type of food this year (whether nourishing or not). My prayer life has been erratic and distracted. (“Hail Mary, full of grace, I should really get that hospital bag packed,” for example.) Enter my husband, for whom I am perpetually grateful. His commitment to Evening Prayer during Lent for the both of us has kept me somewhat focused — or at least somewhat attuned to the fact that, yes, we actually are in the season of Lent. Despite these failures, I suppose this means that there is an even greater opportunity for me to attempt to find holiness during Palm Sunday and Holy Week this year. To be able to align my insignificant aches and pains of this season of life with Jesus’ suffering on the cross is a great gift, one of which should be taken advantage. Our sacrifices are nothing compared to his. Suffering is never easy. It’s never what we would choose. But that’s why it’s so powerful. And it’s why the rewards are so great — be they sanctification, salvation or the miracle of welcoming new life into the world. For that, I’ll take the aches and pains any day. feedback@osv.com ]]>Wed, 29 Mar 2017 00:00:00 -0500/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/21999/The-gift-of-aligning-one%e2%80%99s-self-with-Christ%e2%80%99s-suffering.aspx/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22010/Pastoral-Answers-Impossible-perfection.aspx Question : Matthew 5:48 says, “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” It seems to me that, knowing man’s fallibility and knowing the impossibility of man being perfect, that perhaps Jesus was not saying “perfect” as we understand the word to mean. Could it mean “strive to be complete” or some such thing? — Michael Peerless , via email Answer : It is true, the Greek word here, τέλειοι (teleioi), speaks more of perfection in the sense of completion. Thus, we are to attain to a state of being complete, full grown or of full age. It also has the sense of “reaching the goal.” So we are not dealing with a merely moral perfection, but a completeness of character that is not merely absent of sin, but is possessed of all the virtues. Clearly this is more than a moral injunction for the moment but something attained by God’s grace in stages and accomplished fully only after a journey with the Lord. St. Paul speaks to this when he says, “And [the Lord] gave apostles, prophets, evangelists, shepherds and teachers to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ …” (Eph 4:11-13). But we ought not consign the Lord’s words to a sort of flourish or exaggeration and see our perfection as impossible. No, this is our dignity and our future if we persevere to the end. The saints in heaven have attained to this by the Lord’s grace which has been accomplished in them already. To the degree that this seems impossible, it only seems so from the standpoint of human achievement unaided by grace. In the Sermon on the Mount, the Lord is setting forth a moral vision. He is describing the transformed human person. He is doing more than uttering moralisms or new duties, he is painting a picture of what happens to us when he lives his life in us through his indwelling Holy Spirit. You might say he is describing the normal Christian life, which is to be in a life-changing, transformative relationship with God. It is in this way that we attain, in stages to being perfect as the heavenly Father is perfect. Thus being perfect isn’t just something we start doing today. It is something we grow into, until it is complete andis perfected in us. Priest participation Question : The new priest in our parish just stands there at the altar when we sing the acclamations such as the mystery of faith and the Great Amen, Lamb of God etc. The previous pastor sang loudly with us. Should he not participate more fervently in these acclamations? — Name withheld Answer : Actually, his stance is the correct one. The Liturgical directives indicate that the people proclaim the mystery of faith, the Great Amen, the conclusion to the Our Father and the Lamb of God. So, those are acclamations that belong to the congregation, not the priest. The priest is directed to say or sing the Sanctus and the “Lord I am not worthy” with the people. Since there are responses and acclamations that belong to the people, for the priest to say or sing them does harm to the dialogue and shared responsibility that is intended by the Liturgy. The priest should not look bored as the people respond. Rather he should reverently and prayerfully attend to the response of the people. Msgr. Charles Pope is the pastor of Holy Comforter-St. Cyprian in Washington, D.C., and writes for the Archdiocese of Washington, D.C., blog at blog.adw.org. ]]>Wed, 29 Mar 2017 00:00:00 -0500/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22010/Pastoral-Answers-Impossible-perfection.aspx/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22011/Eye-on-Culture-Stuff-comes-up.aspx Last month my husband and I spoke at a marriage enrichment retreat in Ohio. It was a lovely event that offered encouraging talks from several married couples, breakout sessions, the Sacrament of Reconciliation, as well as Mass and a very nice date night opportunity. By the time the event actually rolled around, the retreat was fairly well attended. However, in discussions with the planning committee, they expressed frustration with the fact that many couples waited until the last minute to register. They were perplexed as to how such an encouraging and affordable event could continually be such a hard sell year after year. The same couples who think nothing of spending more than twice the amount on a nice dinner won’t commit to an event that will provide a lot more fruit for their marriage than what the local restaurant has on the menu. This gathering wasn’t unique. We’ve found this to be true locally in our own state of Michigan as well as across the country and even among the faithful. When it comes to marriage events, especially in the retreat format, it seems that registrants wait until the very last minute or ignore the opportunity altogether. But why? With all the surveys showing marriages still struggling and often ending in divorce, it would seem like couples should be flocking to these conferences. One recent report from the Pew Center found that divorce is on the rise among couples who have been married for long periods of time. Other research shows that the couples who pray together stay together. The Couple Prayer marriage ministry (www.coupleprayer.com) often cites the statistics that among couples who pray together regularly, the divorce rate, which nationally still stands at one out of two marriages, drops to one out of 1,105. And marriage retreats can be a major catalyst in bringing husbands and wives closer together, especially in helping them learn how to pray. As I continued my conversation that Saturday evening with the event planner, she said she finally discovered at least part of the answer. She was chatting with a married friend of hers who was actually helping her with the retreat and assumed her friend would soon be registering. To her surprise, her friend had no intention of going. And when asked for a reason she replied in a very straightforward manner, “stuff comes up and then we have to deal with it in our relationship.” The organizer was so stunned by the answer she didn’t know what to say. Isn’t that the point of retreats and conferences, marriage-related or otherwise? As crazy as the “stuff comes up” answer is, in a strange way it makes perfect sense. Speaking from personal experience, dealing with “stuff” is tough. It’s tough enough to deal with our own “stuff” on an individual level but even more daunting in a relationship. It took me and my husband years of effort, guidance from the Church and lots of prayer to heal our marriage. When we attended a few retreats, “stuff” indeed came up. Now we’re grateful because it enabled us to understand each other better and to strengthen our faith as well as our relationship. We all have lots of stuff. But unless we learn how to unload the burdens that may be weighing down our marriages, the loads will be too heavy to handle and we’re likely to sink into despair. So, if there’s a good marriage retreat being offered in your diocese, hop on board. Let Jesus and the Faith help you to not just get your head above water but to chart a different course that will lead to smoother sailing with God steering the ship. Teresa Tomeo is the host of “Catholic Connection,” produced by Ave Maria Radio and heard daily on EWTN Global Catholic Radio and SiriusXM Channel 130. ]]>Wed, 29 Mar 2017 00:00:00 -0500/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22011/Eye-on-Culture-Stuff-comes-up.aspx/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22013/Letters-to-the-editor-for-April-9-15-2017.aspxWed, 29 Mar 2017 00:00:00 -0500/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22013/Letters-to-the-editor-for-April-9-15-2017.aspx/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22014/Opening-the-Word-The-suffering-servant.aspx Jesus does not die a happy death. Having proclaimed the Passion this week, we know. We know about the sufferings that he enduredupon the cross. We know about the plot, made by a friend, to put him to death. But how often do we consider the loneliness of Jesus upon the cross? In the Gospel of Matthew, every disciple has gone missing. Every person has left. Peter, the one who proclaimed Jesus as Messiah, as Lord, as the Savior of the world, then denies him: “I do not know the man” (Mt 26:72). APRIL 9, 2017 PALM SUNDAY OF THE LORD'S PASSION IS 50:4-7 PS 22:8-9, 17-18, 19-20, 23-24 PHIL 2:6-11 MT 26:14-27:66 James and John, the sons of Zebedee, who asked for a privileged place in Jesus’ kingdom. Gone. The rabbled crowd, who longed for signs and wonders, are not present even though it was they who cried out, “Let him be crucified!” (Mt 27:22). Not one person who could be just was just. Not one person who could love did love: “…darkness came over the whole land” (Mt 27:45). Yet, all these moments of loneliness, of darkness, of desolation pale in comparison to the Son’s experience of abandonment by the Father. At his baptism in the river Jordan, the Father proclaims the belovedness of the Son. At his transfiguration on Mount Tabor, the Father speaks, once again, reminding us to give our wills over to the beloved Son of the Father. But now as Jesus dies upon the cross, there is nothing but the solitary voice of the Word made flesh: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mt 27:46). Of course, we know that our Lord is quoting from Psalm 22. We know that this is a lament psalm that does not end with sorrow, with pain, but with hope. Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death. And we know the reason for hope. But on this Sunday, on this Passion Sunday, during this Holy Week, let’s not pass over the lament too quickly. Jesus Christ is the suffering servant, the one who emptied himself completely out of his love. On his body is laid the sins of the world, all the darkness that we human beings could throw at him. The darkness of a political order that didn’t care to be just. The darkness of his fellow Israelites, who did not recognize him. The darkness of his disciples who could not remain. The silence of the Father in the midst of the suffering of the Son is a sign of this darkness. Jesus takes on the fullness of the human condition. He knows the suffering of life and death, the bitter silence encountered by the just man who keeps the law out of love. If Jesus did not know the terrors of this silence, the sorrow of this sin, the pain of loneliness, he would not have taken up the fullness of the human condition. The full condition of the just, who love unto the end, but are rejected by an age grown cold. “And behold, the veil of the sanctuary was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth quaked, rocks were split, tombs were opened, and the bodies of many saints who had fallen asleep were raised” (Mt 27:51-53). Even now in the midst of suffering and death, loneliness and sorrow, God speaks a word. The Father has spoken the definitive word in his Son. The definitive word of love. The final word. “‘Truly, this was the son of God’” (Mt 27:54). Timothy P. O’Malley is the director of the Notre Dame Center for Liturgy. ]]>Wed, 29 Mar 2017 00:00:00 -0500/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22014/Opening-the-Word-The-suffering-servant.aspx/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22015/Attentiveness-to-God.aspx "Take time to heal your inner self through meditation. Give your mind a few moments of ‘nothingness’ each day. Concentrate on your breathing to achieve a state of relaxation and peacefulness.” After a long conference day — speaking and meeting readers and friends and supporters — my temptation was to see what Donald Trump event had everyone buzzin. But the note, flagged “meditation,” left by the room attendant was enough to prod an examination of conscience: What really is the best use of a few minutes of downtime? Recollection or MSNBC? While the note would not offend any “spiritual not religious” sensibilities, it did strike me as refreshingly countercultural. As traffic below whisked by the windows, even at a late hour, all into the night and early morning, the message was about slowing down and tuning out the noise. Slowing down may happen, but what do we do and what do we pour into ourselves as we do so? In his book, “ Contemplative Provocations ” (Ignatius, $17.95), Father Donald Haggerty, a New York archdiocesan priest who has spent extensive time with the Missionaries of Charity, writes about the “need for recollection as a prelude to prayer.” He says that it “contains a certain dilemma besides the difficulty of attaining it. It implies that a mental concentration is necessary if one is to pray. And so the demand to corral our wandering thoughts, to tie them down and keep them from breaching the enclosure of prayer. If we succeed in this effort, it is thought, we can presumably dwell on ‘spiritual things.’” The challenge, as always, is about love. “Attentiveness to God is desirable in prayer,” Father Haggerty writes. “But the attention we are to cultivate comes from love, not a mental discipline directed simply at thoughts. What we should seek is a recollection that surrenders us to someone entirely beyond our thought, a beloved who will never stop to rest for long within a particular thought.” In other words, it’s not about nothing, and it’s not about us, either, and our initiative or strategy. It’s about what God wants to do with the time we give. It’s about trusting God with our whole lives. It’s about letting him show us what he wants that to look like. Our challenge is the loving surrender to him to do with us as he wills. That “spiritual not religious” trend may just be an indictment of what we’re doing with our free time. How much of it is in adoration? How much of it is in self-giving? Do we convey joy, even while “off duty”? How “ All In ,” as Pat Gohn writes in the title of her recent book on faith are we, really? When Mother Angelica — whose eventual beatification Mass I’m looking forward to —died around this time last year, the Mass program for the Mass in Hanceville, Alabama, included, “And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being changed into his likeness from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit” (2 Cor 3:18). Is that happening? Is that what we’re giving ourselves over to? With every business trip and carpool — whatever it is we’re doing? Are we careful about what we pour into ourselves? Do we treat ourselves — one another — as the tabernacles he’s asked us to be? And do we take everything as a reminder that that’s who we are about — all in, all his? Are we beholding his glory wherever we are? With or without the rare explicit invitation, we must strive for a posture of being that is something more contemplative. Kathryn Jean Lopez is senior fellow at the National Review Institute, editor-at-large of National Review, and co-author of “ How to Defend the Faith Without Raising Your Voice” (OSV, $17.95). ]]>Wed, 29 Mar 2017 00:00:00 -0500/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22015/Attentiveness-to-God.aspx/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22016/Editorial-Authentic-belonging.aspx The children’s educational program “Sesame Street” made national headlines in mid-March with its announcement that, beginning in April, new Muppet Julia would represent a young child with autism. For the 1 in 6 children diagnosed with a developmental disability — including autism — each year, and for their parents, this recognition and resource is no small thing. This is especially true in a society where the numbers of those with disabilities is on the rise. According to the most recent data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the number of individuals with developmental disabilities increased 17.1 percent from 1997 to 2008. This includes a 289.5 percent increase in the prevalence of autism. While the Church has made progress over the years in developing a pastoral response to people with disabilities, it still has a way to go. Dioceses and parishes, faced with the very real burdens of lack of funding and training, are inconsistent in the programming and catechesis offered to people with disabilities. Though Catholic schools may welcome young people with disabilities, they often are strapped for resources to minister properly to them, especially compared to their public school counterparts. Leadership from the U.S. bishops, too, while present, has been uneven. The most comprehensive pastoral statement on persons with disabilities by the U.S. bishops was issued in 1978 and reaffirmed in 1998. (The bishops also released sacramental guidelines in 1995.) We, too, can do more. It is up to Catholics, individually and in parishes, to extend to persons with disabilities the love and mercy of Jesus. Very effective is the National Catholic Partnership on Disability (NCPD), founded in 1982. It was this group that authored this week’s essay on autism (Page 7) and reminded each of us of what it means to truly welcome those persons with disabilities. In the essay, the authors make an important point about reaching out to those with disabilities when they juxtapose the concepts of “inclusion” and “belonging.” They are saying that how we treat the “other” — the one who is different from us — is not a matter of charity but of justice. Rather than extending our arms to include, as if we are the only arbiters of who matters, we do better to recognize the inherent belonging of all the baptized to the Body of Christ, regardless of ability. It’s a powerful and important distinction that extends to any person we may perceive as being different. Finally, no small matter can be made of the great courage, suffering and hard work that goes into both living with a disability and caring for those with a disability. In every way possible, persons with disabilities and their caretakers should be supported and encouraged by those in the Church. As we commemorate Jesus’ walk to Calvary this Holy Week, we are buoyed by the great grace that comes from his willingness to suffer selflessly for our salvation. Pope Francis last June reminded us of this paradoxical gift of suffering when it comes to those with disabilities. “It is thought that sick or disabled persons cannot be happy, since they cannot live the lifestyle held up by the culture of pleasure and entertainment,” he said. “In some cases, we are even told that it is better to eliminate them as soon as possible, because they become an unacceptable economic burden in time of crisis. Yet what an illusion it is when people today shut their eyes in the face of sickness and disability! They fail to understand the real meaning of life, which also has to do with accepting suffering and limitations.” May the rest of the Church continue to more deeply realize the authentic belonging of those with disabilities. Editorial Board: Greg Willits, editorial director; Gretchen R. Crowe, editor-in-chief; Don Clemmer, managing editor ]]>Wed, 29 Mar 2017 00:00:00 -0500/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/22016/Editorial-Authentic-belonging.aspx/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/21909/Letters-to-the-Editor-for-March-26-April-1-2017.aspxWed, 15 Mar 2017 00:00:00 -0500/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/21909/Letters-to-the-Editor-for-March-26-April-1-2017.aspx/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/21795/Irish-filmmaker-with-ALS-shows-power-of-choosing-life-.aspx The next phase of killing is en route to the West Coast. Oregon, which was the first state to legalize euthanasia in the country via its “Death with Dignity Act” in 1997, now is looking to take a new step with S.B. 494, a bill that could be used to withhold food and water from patients suffering from dementia and mental illness. These are men and women who are not necessarily at the point of death, but rather who are considered “incompetent” and no longer have the ability to communicate their wishes (see story on Page 4) . It’s a dangerous next step down the slippery slope misleadingly promoted as “death with dignity.” Increasingly, it seems individuals in the world in which we live seem to be looking for more reasons to die than to remain alive. Perhaps that’s why I was so inspired by the story of Simon Fitzmaurice, an Irish filmmaker behind the new film “My Name is Emily.” Fitzmaurice’s personal story is told in the documentary, “It’s Not Yet Dark,” which debuted earlier this year, and which is based on a 2015 memoir by the same name. In 2008, Fitzmaurice, who was married with three children and a promising career, was diagnosed with motor neuron disease, better known as ALS or Lou Gehrig’s disease. Doctors gave the 33-year-old three or four years to live. Some advocated for him to consider not relying on artificial means to continue his life. Fitzmaurice, though, was having none of it. He didn’t want to placidly wait out life or to welcome an early death. He wanted to live. Like what you’re reading? Subscribe now in print or digital . Eight years later, Fitzmaurice is no longer able to move his limbs. He cannot speak, swallow or breathe without assistance from a machine. But, boy, is he living. Not only did he pen the screenplay for “My Name is Emily,” but he directed it, too, sharing his thoughts via a computer that can track his eye movements to spell out words and phrases. Working with a supportive cast and crew, he developed a director’s shorthand — winking when he thought a take was satisfactory and it was time to move on. When all he had left of himself to communicate with were his eyes, that’s what he used. He told The New York Times: “I remember thinking, ‘I must do this to show my children to never give up.’” I would say he succeeded. In an interview with CBS, Fitzmaurice said he wanted to direct “My Name is Emily” in order “to spend this precious time I have doing something that fulfills me at the deepest level, that echoes in my soul. “A fire has been lit inside me — seriously, an energy I didn’t know I had. And it has not gone out,” he said. “It has been life-changing.” Life-changing for him, and dramatically inspirational for the rest of us. In a culture that promotes death as the palatable choice for people with illness or disabilities, Fitzmaurice’s story of perseverance and determination to live is a reminder of just how powerful it can be to instead choose life. feedback@osv.com . ]]>Wed, 01 Mar 2017 00:00:00 -0500/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/21795/Irish-filmmaker-with-ALS-shows-power-of-choosing-life-.aspx/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/21804/Temper-tantrums.aspx A few years ago, I was traveling to Florida for a speaking engagement. If anyone has ever visited Orlando, you know how busy that area is — starting with the Orlando airport. The scene that unfolded before me as I attempted to get off the tram and head toward baggage claim is similar to what we’ve been seeing in the sometimes unruly and violent protests that have occurred since the election. A woman was traveling with her son, who looked to be between 2-3 years old. When the tram stopped and everyone began to exit, the little boy became unglued. Apparently he thought he was already at Disney World and the tram was a fantastic ride that had just ended, and he didn’t understand why. He would not take “no” for an answer. The tram was packed with other parents trying to collect their toddlers (along with their numerous carry-ons and strollers). There were plenty of other folks like me also doing their best to get to their destinations. However, the mom made it almost impossible for several of us to go on our merry way. Her son refused to move beyond the platform just outside the doors of the tram. He immediately dropped to the floor and began screaming as toddlers often do when they don’t get their way. Instead of quickly scooping him up and moving along, the mom thought it would be best to try and reason with her toddler, despite that her attempt to negotiate was putting others literally in harm’s way. Several travelers, myself included, practically tripped over the little boy and his mom as we tried to exit the train. I managed eventually to make it around the two of them, and as I hurried off I could still hear the boy making quite a ruckus and drowning out his mother. Sound familiar? Just take a look at some of the protests and counterprotests that have been happening around the nation. A recent case in point is the agitator who decided to do his best to disrupt a peaceful, mid-February Students for Life rally on the University of Michigan campus by acting much like that toddler in Orlando. As speakers began their presentations from the podium, the student burst into a loud scream until he lost his breath. He apparently just couldn’t handle what he was hearing. This happened repeatedly and, again, much like the little boy who didn’t get his way, when the presenters tried to reason with him he became even more agitated and screamed more loudly than before. Unlike the mother of the screaming child, however, the presenters quickly realized they weren’t going to get anywhere with this student. They ignored him and went ahead with their event, and when the bully realized he no longer had an audience he stopped screaming and disappeared into the crowd. Like what you’re reading? Subscribe now in print or digital . In order for concerned Catholic Christians trying to do our best to embrace — and share — the truth of our faith in an increasingly hostile environment, we need to be like the other Orlando travelers on the train that day. We have to ignore the temper tantrums and keep our eyes focused on Christ so we can get where we need to be spiritually. We have to keep teaching and preaching the truth in love, but we also have to remember that sometimes there are those who are not ready to listen. Life is definitely a journey, but today too many see it as a gravy train — a free ride that never ends. We pray for them. We are always willing and ready to answer questions, to extend a helping hand reminding them of God’s mercy. But we can’t allow those who are still like little children, absolutely refusing to take “no” for an answer, to stop us in our tracks and cause us to stumble. Teresa Tomeo is the host of “Catholic Connection,” produced by Ave Maria Radio and heard daily on EWTN Global Catholic Radio and SiriusXM Channel 130. ]]>Wed, 01 Mar 2017 00:00:00 -0500/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/21804/Temper-tantrums.aspx/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/21805/This-Lent-share-love.aspx “That look on your face! The look on his!” A colleague stopped by my office at the end of a long day. He stopped, looked down and saw a photo he hadn’t seen before of me with Pope Benedict XVI. It was from October 2012 and was at the opening Mass for the Year of Faith. It also happened to be the 50th anniversary of the opening of the Second Vatican Council. I had gotten a call a week or so before asking if I’d go to Rome and accept a message from the pope on behalf of all the women of the world. I write a little about this in a chapter for a book coming out this spring called “When Women Pray.” Pope Benedict was reissuing a statement that Blessed Paul VI had offered to all the women of the world at the closing of the council. The message reads, in part: “At this moment when the human race is undergoing so deep a transformation, women impregnated with the spirit of the Gospel can do so much to aid mankind in not falling.” And it concludes with: “Women of the entire universe, whether Christian or nonbelieving, you to whom life is entrusted at this grave moment in history, it is for you to save the peace of the world.” I often think: What a different world we’d live in if people even knew this is what the Catholic Church thinks about women — and if we lived this. Impregnated with the spirit of the Gospel. But then, the same is true of Christianity itself. Living the Beatitudes, living the love we profess to believe in, would change things. The anger. The despair. The indifference. It would all look so different. Archbishop Charles J. Chaput of Philadelphia makes this point in his new book, “Strangers in a Strange Land” (Henry Holt, $26). “There are no unhappy saints, and joy and hope are constant themes in the work of Pope Francis,” he writes. “Like St. Paul, he sees the source of Christian joy in the act of preaching the Gospel, in a passion for living the Good News and actively sharing the passion for living the Good News and actively sharing the person of Jesus Christ with others.” He adds, about Pope Francis: “This is why he has such urgent words for tepid Christians. This is why he can never seem so impatient with believers who let their hearts grow numb. If we don’t share the faith, we lose it.” It seems so simple, and yet we all know how hard it can be. That day with Pope Benedict, I was overjoyed. Not because I was meeting the pope, as much an honor as that was. It was the look of love on his face. The message he handed me that day was overflowing with love, and so were his eyes. I could see the message. He was the message. Love was the message. It was just a window into the beauty of the gaze of God the Father. Do we look at others with that gaze? Like what you’re reading? Subscribe now in print or digital . We all know “They will know we are Christians by our love.” So many people today do not know love, because they do not see it from us. Maybe this Lent, we could start smiling. Looking up from our phones and looking into people’s eyes. Those closest to us and those we would have otherwise overlooked. We’re made in the image and likeness of God. What if your gaze upon someone today is the only time they’ve seen that love? What if it’s the only time they could see if might be possible that they were loved into existence? We get busy. We get burdened. I know. But we can recover the joy that is the life we claim to lead. Love this Lent. Is there any doubt that’s what is needed? Kathryn Jean Lopez is senior fellow at the National Review Institute, editor-at-large of National Review, and co-author of “ How to Defend the Faith Without Raising Your Voice” (OSV, $17.95). ]]>Wed, 01 Mar 2017 00:00:00 -0500/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/21805/This-Lent-share-love.aspx/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/21806/Letters-to-the-Editor-for-March-12-18-2017.aspxWed, 01 Mar 2017 00:00:00 -0500/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/21806/Letters-to-the-Editor-for-March-12-18-2017.aspx/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/21758/Our-Lenten-journey.aspx St. Athanasius wrote of Lent in the fourth century as if it was already an ancient tradition. The patriarch of Alexandria, Egypt, described “the whole world” engaged in a 40-day Lenten fast in preparation for Easter. That was only about 60 years after the Council of Nicea (A.D. 325) was held in the aftermath of the Age of Martyrs. The Council fathers agreed to the tradition that Easter would be celebrated on the first Sunday after the first full moon that falls on or after March 21. As it has ever after. And Ash Wednesday is always 46 days prior to Easter — 40 days of the traditional penitential period, plus six nonpenitential Sundays. We knelt in the evening 1,692 years after Nicea. The Hoosier church was crowded for Mass and the distribution of ashes. Ash Wednesday came late this year. Workers struggling in after a long day. Young fathers and mothers with the little guys. Even some of the oldsters — like me — who didn’t get up in the early morning. We’re all there after a day of fast and abstinence. As we will conclude in keeping Good Friday. The season has begun. Ash Wednesday was something to experience in downtown Pittsburgh when I lived there a few years back. A small congregation on the weekends, the downtown Catholic church — St. Mary of Mercy — had the whole working city for a parish that day. Ashes were distributed at the noon Mass and the diocesan pastoral center next door. Lines poured in and out of both. Pittsburgh is a Catholic town, and looking around on Ash Wednesday, ashes seemed to be on every forehead. We saw ashes outside of church this year, but in Indiana the weather seems to establish the mood of the Lenten season that will follow. The world looks penitential. Indiana is generally dark and overcast in the weeks before — and just after — the spring equinox. It might snow — a wet, messy slop that usually greets St. Patty’s Day — but it looks more gray than white. Everything novel about winter disappeared long ago, and there is rarely a hint in the landscape that greenery will ever come. We’ve been abstaining on Fridays, and just about everyone still has their own “give-ups” for the season. I’m reminded of the Lenten discipline that Pope Gregory the Great (d. 604) presented to Augustine of Canterbury for his consideration: “We abstain from flesh meat and from all things that come from flesh, as milk, cheese, eggs and butter.” Today, it’s more likely beer and chocolate. Fasting. Abstinence. Almsgiving. They are the triumvirate of the Lenten season and have been so since Gregory the Great. The monks would keep that strict fast and abstinence. Fish was often subject to it, as in many places it was considered “flesh meat.” Like what you’re reading? Subscribe now in print or digital . In his classic “Handbook of Christian Feasts and Customs” (1952, with a 1958 imprimatur from Cardinal Richard Cushing of Boston), Father Francis X. Weiser explains how people would donate what little they saved from the Lenten abstinence to “the building of churches and other pious endeavors. One of the steeples of the Cathedral of Rouen in France is still known for this reason as the ‘butter tower.’” Father Weiser’s book is long out of print. I’ve cribbed much of this from my battered copy, old when I was young. You can get a used edition on Amazon, but it costs a king’s ransom. I don’t know if the good souls of Rouen still call it the “butter tower.” Breaks my heart when the old knowledge slips away. Lent holds us. Beginning with a reminder of our own mortality, it’s a pilgrimage every year from “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” to the promise of the Resurrection. Lent heals the soul. In Pittsburgh. In Indiana. The whole world. Robert P. Lockwood writes from Indiana. Follow him on Twitter @BobPLockwood . ]]>Wed, 22 Feb 2017 00:00:00 -0500/OSVNewsweekly/Perspectives/Article/TabId/726/ArtMID/13630/ArticleID/21758/Our-Lenten-journey.aspx